


Duty Calls

by Flywoman



Category: Football RPF
Genre: M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-03-28
Updated: 2013-03-28
Packaged: 2017-12-06 22:10:57
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 385
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/740703
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Flywoman/pseuds/Flywoman
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Xavi has a bright idea after the Spain NT's surprise draw in Finland.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Duty Calls

**Author's Note:**

> [Xavi asked Del Bosque to bring Iker to the match against France](http://www.marca.com/2013/03/25/en/football/national_teams/1364240770.html). As [](http://sageharper.livejournal.com/profile)[](http://sageharper.livejournal.com/)**sageharper** says, they really do ship themselves.

The opening notes of _Everybody Wants to Rule the World_ woke Iker Casillas from a sound sleep. He rolled over, squinted disbelievingly at his cell phone on the bedside table, then fumbled for it, yawning. "Xavi? What the hell time is it in Finland, anyway?"

"Iker." His friend's voice was breathy and slightly slurred.

"Xavi, are you _drunk_ -dialing me?" Iker asked gleefully, his irritation instantly forgotten. He sat up, pulling the bedclothes more tightly around himself, and rubbed a hand over his face.

"Not drunk," Xavi corrected him with great dignity. "Just had a couple... the boys were so sad after the match, Pepe and I decided that it was our duty."

"You're getting old," Iker teased. "And don't try to tell me that Pepe needed an excuse."

"Iker, you should be here." The intensity with which this was delivered kindled a warm glow in Iker's gut, but,

"Oh," he said lightly, "I'm sure that Victor is doing just fine."

"I wasn't talking about your hands." Xavi paused. "Well, maybe I was, but without the goalkeeping gloves." His voice dropped to a velvety growl. "Running up and down my back, and in between my-"

"Xavi," Iker bit back a laugh. "I can't justify taking time off from training just because you're horny."

"This is bigger than me," Xavi protested. Iker imagined his dramatic eyebrows raised in indignation. "It affects the entire team's morale!"

"You not getting laid?" Iker snorted, then reconsidered. "Actually, that might not be so far off."

"We're talking about the World Cup qualifiers, _tio_! I'm sure that I could convince Del Bosque. Maybe I should take a picture of myself kissing your photo," Xavi mused.

"Maybe you should sober up."

"If he invites you, will you come?" Xavi insisted.

Iker rolled his eyes, realized that there was no one around to see him, and shifted the phone from one ear to the other. "Xavi, _cari_ _ño_ -"

 _"_ _¿Por favor?"_ That one little phrase, whispered so wistfully, brought a lump to Iker's throat. He opened his mouth, had to swallow a few times before he could speak.

"Okay," he said finally. "Okay."

 _"Okay,"_ Xavi said, and Iker could hear the smile in his scratchy voice.

"But only if _el M_ _íster_ asks," Iker added quickly.

Xavi chuckled. "You just leave everything to me."  



End file.
